


The Potter Place Gates

by skivingsnaccbox



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Rigel Black Chronicles - murkybluematter
Genre: F/F, Inspired by The Rigel Black Chronicles, Set after FF14, Soooo SPOILERS, recursive fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-16 09:28:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29205126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skivingsnaccbox/pseuds/skivingsnaccbox
Summary: Miss Parkinson is determined to see Harry. Lady Potter is determined to stop her.
Relationships: Harriett Potter / Pansy Parkinson
Comments: 29
Kudos: 115





	The Potter Place Gates

Pansy thought she was prepared for everything Harry Potter could throw at her. She wasn't prepared for Harry's mother.

Pansy, aware the Potter's Floo was almost certainly warded to visitors, arrived at Potter Place the old-fashioned way. She Flooed to the Godric Hollow town center and walked, her little heeled boots artfully avoiding any patch of mud or dust. The walk was excellent. It cleared out the still-lingering stench of an unwashed Draco Malfoy and gave her plenty of time to work through the questions and comments she planned to ask Miss Potter if she actually, unexpectedly, made it in the door. Pansy wasn't foolish—Miss Potter was far too wily to let anything slip. But what she didn't say would be helpful enough.

Pansy came to a halt at an elegant gate. Through the curlicues of iron, she could see a large lawn climbing up to a small and symmetrical Georgian rectory with ivy climbing up the walls and puffs of smoke emerging from four chimneys. The uneducated eye wouldn't see the faintest shifts in light on the building's edges that hinted at undetectable extensions within the home. Pansy was certainly not uneducated—Potter Place was undoubtedly a grand and sizable mansion tucked under a cloak of cozy moderation. Pansy reached her hand out to the gate, but before she could touch the metal, the tingling of the ward blocked her hand. There was no bell to ring, so she pulled out her wand and gave the ward a firm, satisfying jab. The ward rippled, and Pansy fixed her hair. Someone would come.

A few minutes later, the ward rippled, and as it cleared, Pansy saw Lady Potter standing on the other side of the gate as if she had always been there. Pansy's eyebrows rose imperceptibly. A ward that created a perfect illusion of the boundaries' contents without letting the viewer realize they looked at a lie was top-notch warding. Black's work, no doubt, although Pansy knew he hated the Potters. They must have paid through the teeth, and it was worth it. Pansy didn't like to think that Lady Potter might have been standing on the other side observing her for any amount of time. Not that she would have seen anything even if she had. Pansy had put her social mask on the minute she Flooed into the village, and no wait would change that.

"Miss Parkinson," Lady Potter said with a faint smile, making no move to open the gate. She was impeccably dressed in a gown fit for any pureblood drawing-room, and the ink stains on her fingers and sleeves only added to the effect. She oozed stylish intellect.

Pansy waited, but the lady didn't say anything else. Pansy straightened slightly. "Lady Potter, so lovely to see you. I'm so sorry to barge in on you unannounced. I hope to see Miss Potter? Is she available?"

"I'm afraid Harry is not accepting visitors right at this moment, Miss Parkinson," Lady Potter said. "But I'll be sure to let her know you called."

"Wonderful," Pansy said with a bright smile. "Please ask her to expect me tomorrow."

"Miss Park—"

Pansy had already pressed a finger to the portkey in her reticule. A rather rude and abrupt exit, but Pansy had to leave before Lady Potter attempted to tell her that Harry wouldn't be available tomorrow, either. Lady Potter would understand. This interaction had only been the opening move of the game, and it had gone just as Pansy expected.

* * *

"Back again, Miss Parkinson?" Lady Potter said, this time with her child in her arms. Lady Potter's hair was so perfectly mussed that it couldn't possibly have been unintentional, but Pansy had a suspicion that it was. Lady Potter was just so innately glamourous. Miss Potter, if Pansy remembered correctly, had not been. Odd, that.

"I'm sorry it's so early," Pansy said, glancing up at the sun. It was just going on six am, and dawn had barely broken. But Pansy had a great deal to do today, and she had to get her fifth visit to the Potters in before a dress fitting at 7:30. "I'm just terribly eager to speak to Miss Potter. Is she available?"

"I'm afraid she's still in bed."

"I can wait," Pansy said, lying. Lady Potter wouldn't call her on the lie.

"Oh, you would be waiting forever," Lady Potter said sympathetically. "A fever."

"Is this the same fever as four days ago?" Pansy asked. "What a lingering illness."

"A relapse, I'm afraid. Ever so sudden."

"I suppose her temperature spiked right as I approached the wards?"

"Funny you should say that," Lady Potter said, smiling guilelessly. "That's precisely what occurred."

"What a shame," Pansy said, smiling back. "Until next time."

Pansy's finger touched a marble, and her world swirled.

* * *

"I brought Harriett the most wonderful chicken soup for her illness."

"You cook?" Lady Potter asked, her eyebrows shooting towards her violently red hair.

"Oh no," Pansy said, her laugh tinkling. "But my house elf does."

"Oh, how lovely," Lady Potter said. "But I'm afraid my daughter doesn't eat meat, so chicken noodle soup simply wouldn't work for her. The thought was lovely, however."

"She's a vegetarian?" Pansy asked, her eyebrows shooting up.

"Mostly," Lady Potter said. "Occasionally, she breaks the habit, but she certainly prefers vegetables."

"Fascinating," Pansy murmured, utterly sincere.

"It's really not," Lady Potter said flatly. She continued, "You always catch me at such busy moments that I'm afraid you are getting a poor viewing of me as a conversationalist. But I simply must go back inside. I have a potion brewing."

"I understand entirely. I'll see you tomorrow, Lady Potter."

"I do so look forward to our little chats, Miss Parkinson, but perhaps these ever so regular visits are taking up too much of your time?"

"Not at all, Lady Potter," Pansy said, tilting her head. "I have all the time in the world."

* * *

"I'm afraid Harry is out today," Lady Potter said. "She won't be back for a very long time."

"But her illness has passed?"

"Finally, it has. Such a trial for us all."

"I can only imagine. If Harry's feeling better, then I'll just wait for her," Pansy said.

Lady Potter shook her head slowly. "I'm afraid the house is under construction. All the visitors' rooms. I would let you in, but I haven't the slightest idea when she'll come back, and there's simply no place for you to wait comfortably."

"Lady Potter," Pansy exclaimed. "I would never dream of inconveniencing you so. I'll wait right here."

The slightest snort emerged from Lady Potter's serene aspect. "Outside the gates?"

Pansy pulled out her reticule. Opening the small purse, she reached her fingers in and then her whole arm until she pulled out a rug. She elegantly rolled it out on the gravel. As Lady Potter watched, Pansy removed a white wicker chair, a footstool, striped silk cushions that matched her dress, an umbrella that she proceeded to push into the ground to block the sun, a marble-topped side table, a stack of magazines, and lemonade in an ever-chilling bottle. Pansy had created a proper pureblood drawing room right outside the Potter Place front gate within two minutes. Pansy settled herself in, picked up a magazine, poured the lemonade into a silver goblet, and smiled through the gate to Lady Potter. "Don't worry about me, Lady Potter. I'll be very comfortable while I wait."

Pansy couldn't entirely suppress the victory she felt when Lady Potter's perfect mask slipped just enough to show she was hiding a laugh. After a second, her control regained, Lady Potter said. "So I see. Anybody who worries about you, Miss Parkinson, is a fool."

"Flattered."

Pansy sat there reading her magazines until dusk. The lights flickered on inside Potter Place. Twice, Pansy noticed a curtain fluttering in the same second-floor window and the slightest glimpse of dark hair. She probably imagined it—the wards were excellent—but she chose to believe it was real. She smiled to herself, packed up her things, and went home.

* * *

As Pansy was adjusting her umbrella for the shifting afternoon sun, Lady Potter emerged through the gate. She didn't open it, of course—just in case Pansy went wild and tried to rush the house, Pansy guessed—but rather walked through the gate itself, and metal turning to smoke before her.

Lady Potter's green dress matched the ice cream she was carrying in a massive crystalline serving bowl.

"Goodness," Pansy remarked. "That's quite a lot of ice cream."

"Making ice cream is a new hobby of mine," Lady Potter said. "So satisfying. I was hoping you could bring this to your mother, with my compliments?"

"Of course," Pansy said, moving the magazines on her side table aside and placing the heaping bowl in the middle. It overwhelmed the table. "She'll be so grateful."

As Pansy started to settle back into her chair, Lady Potter cleared her throat apologetically. "I'm afraid the ice cream will melt. You might want to take it back before that occurs?"

"The bowl isn't charmed to stay cold?"

Lady Potter smiled ruefully. "Unfortunately, my charmed bowl just broke. This is an ordinary muggle one."

"I can charm it to stay cold," Pansy offered, pulling her wand out.

"My husband is an Auror, dear," Lady Potter pointed out. "I can't condone such a blatant use of underage magic in front of me, you understand."

Pansy's lips twitched. Was this what Harry's life was like? Pansy responded, "And I suppose you can't do the spell to preserve it?"

Lady Potter spread her hands. "I left my wand in the house."

"Of course you did," Pansy said, smiling at where the handle of Lady Potter's wand poked out of her embroidered sleeve. Lady Potter smiled right back. After a long moment, Pansy said, "Well, in that case, I'd best be going. Mother will be so excited for her ice cream, and I musn't let it melt."

"Wonderful, dear," Lady Potter said. "I'm so grateful."

In a moment of inelegance, Pansy stuck a finger in the side of the ice cream and licked it. "I'm so sorry," she exclaimed. "It's just so tempting." After tasting it, she continued, "You're truly an excellent ice cream maker. Why, this tastes exactly like the mint ice cream from Fortescue's! How impressive."

Lady Potter blushed humbly. "He gave me his recipe."

"What an honor," Pansy replied. "I'd heard it was a family secret. But I suppose you are good at keeping family secrets, aren't you, Lady Potter?"

"Why Pansy, you're getting daring."

"I just feel that I'm getting to know you so well, my lady."

"The ice cream, Pansy," Lady Potter prodded.

"Oh yes, of course. I'll make my way home."

* * *

"I'll be off to the Potters now."

"Why even bother?" Millicent said. "It's been a month, and they haven't let you in. There are better ways to get information."

"Are there?"

Theo grunted. "Millie's right. It's a waste of your time."

Pansy smiled. "I'm not so sure it is. Sometimes Lady Potter says the most interesting things."

"You're having fun," Millie accused. "Aren't you just sitting outside her house?"

"Lady Potter and I are playing a long game of chess. Or maybe chicken. She'll blink first."

* * *

"Look, Miss Parkinson, this has to stop," Lord Potter said, tugging irritably at his hair. "The neighbors are starting to talk. I can't have a teenager camping on my front lawn."

"Then they should come to talk to me," Pansy said. "It's rather boring to sit here all alone. I'd love to get to know the neighborhood. And I'm not on your front lawn. I'm in front of your gate."

"Big difference," Lord Potter snorted.

"There is a big difference," Pansy said, pointing at the gate. "Out here, I'm allowed to do whatever I want. And what I want right now is to read about the new trend in coral lip tones. Unless you intend to let me in?"

"No," he grunted.

"Very well," Pansy said, returning her gaze to her magazine.

"What do you want with my daughter?!" he exclaimed, almost stomping a foot. "She doesn't know anything about anyone. She's just been living in the lower alleys this whole time."

"I just want to talk to her," Pansy said, turning the full force of her pleading gaze on him. "Just for five minutes. I'm happy to be chaperoned. I just need to talk to her very briefly." Of course, Pansy would prefer to be unchaperoned, but the guess that had been forming in her mind during her hours sitting in front of the Potters' front gate would take very little to confirm.

He looked uncomfortably at her wide, almost tearful eyes. He pulled off his glasses, polished them thoughtlessly, and put them back on again. He was suspicious but seemed surprisingly flustered for the Head Auror. He said gruffly, "What do you want to say to her?"

Pansy looked at him, vibrating with energy, and the way he kept glancing back at the house, and a sudden suspicion crossed her mind. Did Lady Potter know he was out here? Had Lady Potter told him to leave Pansy in her hands? Had he run out of patience and was now trying to run her off himself? It seemed likely. So perhaps the best way in would be to fluster him as quickly as possible in hopes that she could get herself in the doors before Lady Potter noted her wayward husband had escaped the house. And how to fluster this man? Pansy glanced at the daisy she had placed in a vase on her side table to brighten up her magazine reading. She reached over, pulled the flower from the vase, and said, "I'm quite glad to speak to you first, Lord Potter. Do I have your permission to court your daughter?"

"To WHAT—?”

"Court her. I am in love with her," Pansy said, a single tear falling. "Why else would I wait outside your gates every single day for a month?"

"To question her!"

Pansy's face crumpled. "If you're this suspicious of my intentions, she'll be even more. And I even brought her a daisy! My love is doomed!"

Lord Potter shuffled on his feet, his glance toward the house now desperate rather than fearful. He was most definitely praying his wife appeared to rescue him now. "My wife didn't say you wanted to… uh…court Harry."

Pansy sniffled. "This is a patriarchal society. I need your permission, not hers, and I didn't want her to warn you against me. I don't think she likes me very much."

"On the contrary—" Lord Potter started, and then stopped himself. Pansy stifled her flash of victory. She knew she'd been winning Lady Potter over. He gaped for another minute and then said, "But you've never even met her."

"Yes, I have," Pansy said. "We danced together at the ball. She had lovely earrings. And she was very charming and witty. I laughed twice. I've never been so impressed, but I convinced myself I didn't have a crush because I felt odd about how much she looked like Rigel. It was terribly confusing." Lord Potter's brows drew together at Rigel's name. But he was starting to look thoughtful, so Pansy pressed forward. "And then I saw a photograph of her with her new face, and she looks so beautiful." At that, Lord Potter visibly winced. "And once I matched her personality to her looks—she's completely my type—I realized I was in love."

Lord Potter latched on to a detail. "A photo? What photo!"

Pansy summoned the packet of information Millicent had sent her and pulled out a photo of Harry in the lower alleys taken by Millie's detective the single time Harriett Potter had left her house. "My friend Millicent Bulstrode had her followed," Pansy said, throwing Millie right under the knight bus. She ignored the rage that flashed across Lord Potter's face. Millicent would have to deal with that herself. It was for a higher cause. "And when I saw the photos, I just knew that Miss Potter was the one for me."

"She _isn't_!"

"She _is_!"

"She _isn't_!"

"Isn't what, darling?" Lady Potter asked as she emerged through the gate and the wards like a nymph out of a pond. Her turquoise chiffon gown swirled around her, and the quill tucked behind her ear bobbed charmingly as she moved. Pansy wanted to be just like her when she grew up. "I'm surprised to find you here."

"Miss Parkinson," Lord Potter almost spat, "Claims she is in love with our Harry. Who is too young to date!"

Lady Potter turned to Pansy, amusement lining her eyes. "Why Miss Parkinson, this is a surprise. Do you have any love poetry to share in honor of my daughter, who you have met…once, I believe?"

Pansy quailed slightly in front of Lady Potter's incisive gaze. "Well, I have, um, yes, this daisy."

"Darling, I think she indeed might be in love," Lady Potter said, huffing out a laugh. "That was the least eloquent collection of words I have ever heard Miss Parkinson utter." Lord Potter's cheeks reddened, and he swelled slightly. Lady Potter placed a hand on his arm, and he calmed. She continued, "This puts Miss Parkinson's presence in an entirely new light. We can't stand in the way of true love."

"We most certainly _can_ ," Lord Potter insisted, his voice rising. "Besides, you're the one who said she was a danger to Harry."

"Now that's coming at it a bit strong," Pansy muttered, glancing at Lady Potter with a betrayed expression. "I'm not dangerous."

"Don't take it personally, dear. You were acting far too innocent."

Pansy gazed at Lady Potter, her brow furrowed. "And now I'm not?"

"No, this confession of undying love is very suspicious. Don't you agree, James?"

"I do," James barked, his eyes narrowed and his gaze pinning Pansy. "Very suspicious."

"Which means we might as well let her in."

"What! No!"

"What?" Pansy exclaimed, agreeing with Lord Potter.

"Keep your friends close and your enemies closer."

"I'm not your enemy," Pansy insisted. She met Lady Potter's eyes firmly. "And I'm _not_ Harry's."

Lady Potter examined her. "Yes, I'm beginning to believe that. Well, chop-chop," she said, clapping her hands. The gate swung open, and a gap opened in the wards. "Declarations of love take time, and I'm rather busy defeating the Dark Arts."

"I didn't agree to this," Lord Potter spluttered, but Pansy had already leaped for her chance and scurried through the gate. Well, she didn't scurry. She moved elegantly in a very hurried way. Pansy Parkinson does not scurry.

"Don't worry, love. I'll chaperone them."

"Why?" Lord Potter asked, trailing after his wife. "Why would you allow this?"

Lady Potter looked at him with a wicked smile. "Because I have a feeling it will be hilarious."

Pansy looked at her side-long and winced. This courtship was going to be a very odd bit to act out. They approached the house, and Lady Potter wandlessly waved the blue door open. As Pansy expected, it was far grander than it looked, with a Victorian tiled floor and two sweeping staircases that met in the center of the hall. Pansy paused, examining the terrain of the battlefield. She started to move toward what looked like the drawing-room, but Lady Potter stopped her.

"Come along," Lady Potter said. "Harry is in the basement."

"Aren't you going to warn her?" Pansy said, grimacing.

"Of course not. That would ruin the fun."

"We don't want that," Pansy muttered under breath. She followed Lady Potter down a winding stair, and Lady Potter opened the door without knocking.

Harry was bent over a cauldron, her shoulder-length hair swirling around her and her plump lips pursed as she stirred. Pansy paused for a minute, taking in her heart-shaped face and long lashes. The photos had not done her justice. Harry was beautiful now. Without looking up, Harry said, "I'm not hungry, Mum."

Pansy snorted. Not looking up, Harry muttered, "Pans?" The name lingered in the steaming air. Harry froze, glancing up, and her hand flicked. The potion stilled, and she stared between her mother and Pansy. She said more clearly, "Hello, Miss Parkinson." Harry stared at Pansy for a long moment, her lips slightly parted, and then she glanced at her mother with obvious confusion.

"Miss Parkinson has requested your father's permission to court you," Lady Potter said helpfully.

"What?" Harry exclaimed, her eyes flicking back to Pansy. Harry ran her hand, still dripping with whatever potion she had been working on, through her hair and then froze. She examined her hand and wrinkled her nose, and then returned to gaping at Pansy.

"Charming," Pansy said drily. With a glance at Lady Potter's suppressed smirk, Pansy pasted a saccharine smile on her face and repeated with utter sincerity, "How charming you look while standing at your cauldron."

"Uh—"

"Miss Potter, you must allow me to tell you how _ardently_ I admire and love you," Pansy said, stepping forward with her hand on her heart.

"That's been done before," Lady Potter said, tutting.

"I know," Pansy said, glaring at her slightly. "I'm quoting. Because I am well-read."

"Very well. Continue."

"Ever since we met that night at the ball, I have thought of you and dreamed of you. Your sparkling wit, your confidence, your grace—"

"My grace?" Harry repeated doubtfully.

"Perhaps not your grace," Pansy acknowledged. "But your focus and intent are most alluring. And your eyes—brighter than I remember, they glow like the sun through the leaves of a forest. I'm lost in the forest of your eyes!"

"Very good," Lady Potter said, nodding.

Harry wiped her hands on her apron. She was still confused, but as she glanced at her mother, her own smile began to emerge. Pansy was glad. If Harry took this too seriously, Pansy would just sink into the floor with embarrassment. "I'm in love with you, Harriett Potter. That's why I've waited outside your gates. All I've thought about is you, about all our interactions—"

"All?" Lady Potter repeated, tilting her head.

"I am sure you know what I mean when I say _je vis pour servir_."

Harry paled, her eyes fixated on Pansy. She remembered teaching Pansy those words all those months ago, as Pansy prepared for her miai. _I live to serve._ And Pansy knew she remembered, could see it in her eyes. Harry reached out and grabbed the edge of the cauldron, her knuckles turning white. Her mouth opened slightly, but no words came out.

"I mean that, Harry," Pansy said softly. "I'm on your side. I'm so glad to know where you are, to know you are okay." She glanced at Lady Potter and added hastily, "Because the Lower Alleys are quite unsafe."

"They aren't that bad," Harry said slowly. "You mean what you say, Miss Parkinson?" She was referring to only the past few sentences, Pansy knew.

"Yes, Harry," Pansy said seriously, willing Harry to read the truth. She was on Rigel—on Harry's side. She always had been, no matter the lies. And Pansy had enjoyed Harriett Potter's company at the ball. There were worse people for Rigel to truly be.

"Well, Harry, do you accept Miss Parkinson's suit?" Lady Potter asked, laughing outright. "Is she allowed to court you?"

"If she's courting me, she can come into the house?" Harry confirmed. She glanced at Pansy and said, "I'm grounded."

"I'm not surprised."

"Yes, of course," Lady Potter said. "She can't court you from afar." Lady Potter paused. "Well, I suppose she could. A letter campaign for your affection." Lady Potter's eyebrows shot up. "Hmm. I _would_ enjoy reading those."

"Mum!"

"No," Pansy exclaimed. "I'm a terrible correspondent! Atrocious handwriting! I need to be here in person."

" _You_ have bad handwriting?" Lady Potter asked, one eyebrow raised.

"Terrible. It's a great trial for my mother."

Harry grinned. She was still shaken, but her hand had loosened on the cauldron. She said awkwardly, "I suppose she can. Court me, I guess."

Pansy curtsied and presented Harry with the now battered and wilted daisy. "For you, my lady."

Harry's lips whitened as she suppressed a laugh. "Most gratifying, Miss Parkinson. I will treasure this."

"Now Harry," Lady Potter protested. "Don't be too supportive. Make her work for your affection."

Harry glanced at her mother again. "Why are you here, Mum? Just for the entertainment?"

"Certainly not," Lady Potter exclaimed, as if appalled at the accusation.

"Yes," Pansy interjected, wrinkling her nose. Lady Potter seemed far less intimidating now that Pansy had realized just how absurd she actually was.

Lady Potter said archly, "Chaperoning a courtship is a noble profession. I have only the purest intent, Harry, to protect your vulnerable virtue."

"Thanks, Mum. Much appreciated. My virtue has been feeling pretty defenseless recently. I'd meant to say something."

"I'm your mother, Harry. I'm always here for you," Lady Potter said, a mischievous look in her eyes.

"You _do_ look beautiful, Harry," Pansy murmured, less a compliment than an observation. She meant it. She could see the Rigel in Harry still, in Harry's mannerisms, and she'd missed her friend so much. She loved her friend, knew all of his—no, her—virtues and her comedy and everything that made her so wonderful to be around. But her friend hadn't been _hot_ before, Pansy thought, her eyes straying against her will to the chest Harry's loose brewing robes did not disguise. She hadn't been Pansy's exact type. And Pansy realized, in a most unsettling way, that maybe this courtship wasn't entirely fake.

Next time, Pansy thought, she'd do whatever it took to get rid of Lady Potter and she'd ditch the daisy. If she was courting Harriett Potter, she'd do better to come bearing newt eyes. Individually packaged, and lots of them. Very expensive ones. After all, when Harry had dragged her into the Hogsmeade apothecary with a different face, Pansy had been listening. Yes, Pansy thought. She'd come back. With newt eyes. And she'd seduce her dearest friend.

**Author's Note:**

> I need to stop writing fic and do my work but I CAN'T stop writing fic. A struggle. If you can't tell, my headcanon is that Pansy is fully gay and just going on dates with guys to please her parents.


End file.
